


The Stiles Shifts

by Maifire



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: BAMF Stiles, Child of Apollo, Demigod Stiles Stilinski, F/M, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Pack Reacts, Second Giant War (Percy Jackson), Second Titan War (Percy Jackson), Stiles Leaves Beacon Hills, Stiles Stilinski Has ADHD, Stiles Stilinski Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Stiles Stilinski Has Powers, Stiles Stilinski Has Scars, Stiles Stilinski Has Secrets, Stiles Stilinski's Name is Mieczysław, Stiles is really cool, Stiles-centric, no ships yet, stiles is powerful
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-05
Updated: 2018-09-12
Packaged: 2019-05-02 18:09:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14550387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maifire/pseuds/Maifire
Summary: Stiles is a demigod, child of Apollo. He has been keeping this a secret from the pack for years now, and doesn't plan on telling them anytime soon. However, after an injury leaves the rest of the pack watching his every move, he fears he might have to.Or, the one where Percy goes missing and Stiles leaves to help find him, only to be sucked into the Second Giant War. Takes place in canon with the Percy Jackson timeline to the best of my ability. The pack is 15 and in their Sophomore year of high school. Season one of Teen Wolf happens during their freshmen year instead of Sophomore.





	1. The Pack Meeting:          December 10, 2009

It was calm in Beacon Hills. White, powdery snow coated the fields, and winter break was soon approaching the high school students. The resident wolf pack was nestled up in a loft owned by one of the alphas, discussing what to do during the 3 week break.

Lydia was going away skiing with her family, as she did every year, and the rest still had to decide on shifts. Scott and the other wolves, save Derek and Erica, would run around the preserve every couple of hours to make sure nothing supernatural took up residency during the long break. 

Last year they hadn’t patrolled, and as a result ended up with groups of pixies dispersed through the woods. Not fun.

Derek, Alison, Erica, Danny, and Jackson would switch on and off watching Stiles’ house to make sure nothing tried to enter, or sitting in his room to make sure he was okay. 

Stiles groaned upon hearing this, “Guys seriously, it was a week ago. I’m fine now, you don’t need to babysit me.”

“Yes,” Derek crossed his arms, not backing down, “and you were in a coma for ten hours. You only woke up when Deaton finally figured out what was wrong. Whatever type of poison was on that blade, it’s clear it’s affecting you.”

Stiles stood up, furrowing his eyebrows. He couldn’t exactly tell them how it wasn’t the poison, but the blade itself- cursed to fatally wound a demigod with one blow. 

He couldn’t exactly tell them how he had two biological dads, and no mom. Or how Deaton was placed in Beacon Hills by his father in order to protect Stiles. He couldn’t explain how Deaton was more scared than any of the pack when Stiles had been brought in, because he was terrified of the wrath of Apollo if his favorite child had died in his care. 

No, if Stiles told anyone else his dad would be so disappointed in him. This part of his life was a secret only others like him could share. 

Stiles jutted out his chin in determination, “Look it’s not-”

“No, he’s right Stiles.” Scott interrupted, “You’ve been acting weird ever since you got injured, and you won’t even show us how bad the wound is, so now we’re forced to form our own opinions! How are we supposed to believe you and Deaton that you’re okay if neither of you will even tell us what was wrong in the first place?”

Scott sighed and slumped back onto the couch, head clearly racing with thoughts after his outburst. It really was ridiculous, he thought. By the time the pack had shown up at the Vet Clinic, Deaton was already in the back room working on Stiles. 

The door had been locked, and Jackson, who was already sitting in the lobby, wouldn’t tell them what had happened. Not that he knew actually knew though, Scott thought bitterly, he had probably just shown up minutes before he had.

Stiles was there for almost a day, the only people staying in the small building constantly being Scott, Derek, and Jackson, who refused to leave for some unknown reason. Scott smiled a little bit- maybe he was starting to warm up to the loud teen. 

They had all agreed not to tell the sheriff what had happened, instead opting for Scott to text him that Stiles was staying over at his house. 

After Stiles had woken up, he wouldn’t talk to anyone from the pack about what happened. It was unhealthy behaviour, and everyone knew it.

Derek walked towards Stiles, “We’re doing this because we’re worried about you Stiles. You almost died, and you’re just brushing it off like it was nothing-”

Stiles threw up his arms, “It was-’

“No it wasn’t,” Derek closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, “you really scared all of us, and you don’t understand-“

Now Stiles was mad. How dare he- Derek is the one who doesn’t understand. None of the pack fully understands. 

Stiles closed the rest of the space between himself and Derek, “I understand perfectly! You guys are-“

“You died Stiles!” Isaac jumped to his feet, eyes wide but brows set in determination, “You- you were dead. It was only for a few seconds, but your heart stopped beating. Lydia screamed.” 

It was dead silent for a beat, and then suddenly the living room erupted into chaos. 

“Isaac seriously-“

“I thought we weren’t going to tell him-“

“Why would you say that-“

Lydia turned to Stiles. He hadn’t said anything yet, staring in shock at the place Isaac had been standing only a minute ago. 

“Why-” Everyone fell silent at that one word, spoken quietly and hesitantly. 

They’ve never heard Stiles sound so scared. 

He cleared his throat, speaking louder, “Why the hell didn’t any of you tell me sooner? Honestly, what the fuck? Does my dad know?”

Stiles glared at Jackson, a look of betrayal washing over his face, before settling into something worse- but no, that didn’t make sense. He must have been looking at Scott. As his eyebrows hardened, realization smacked Derek across the face. Stiles wasn’t scared, was pissed and just trying to not lose it. 

Scott however, did not notice this, instead opting to reach a hand out for Stiles, “Hey, it’s okay to be afraid but-“

“I’m not afraid Scott! I’m mad- no, I’m beyond mad, I’m furious!” Stiles slapped Scott’s arm off of him, but with the way Scott recoiled it could’ve been his face.

Now Stiles was yelling, the betas cowering in fear. This was a side of Stiles they’ve truly never thought they’d see. 

Stiles let out a short, deprecating laugh, “When something like this happens to me you have to let me know- let my dad know! What, do you think I haven’t been in dangerous situations before?”

The room stilled. 

Lydia stood in between the two friends, concern etched into her features, “Stiles what do you mean dangerous situations? You, Danny, and I research and plan. We don’t get into dangerous situations. The only reason you got stabbed was because someone entered your house.”

“That’s not-“ Stiles cut himself off with a sigh, “Whatever, it’s no use trying to reason with you guys.”

Stiles swiftly threw on his hoodie over his flannel. He walked to the door and opened it, but before leaving he looked over his shoulder, “Don’t stalk my house. It’s weird.”

He closed the door softly behind him, walking out to his jeep and climbing in.

Lydia turned to Scott and smacked him in the back of the head, “Seriously? It was already bad enough with what Isaac said, did you really need to go and call him weak on top of it?”

Scott rubbed his head, “I wasn’t-“

“Shut up Scott,” Derek growled, “we still need to figure out who will watch Stiles first.”

“But he just said!-“ Isaac looked at Derek with wide eyes.

Jackson, who had been sitting silently on the couch up until now, locked eyes with Derek, “Are you sure we should be doing this? Stiles can take care of himself. He’s not as weak as-“

“You two can shut up too. Allison, we’ll take tonight. Danny, you’ll be with Erica tomorrow night. We’ll alternate until it looks like Stiles is better.” Derek sighed, “We don’t want him to feel like we’re babying him.”

Allison nodded, getting up to stand next to the door, “So are we going or not?”


	2. The Break In: December 3, 2009

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happened the night of the break in at the Stilinski residence.

It was a quarter to four, but it was already starting to get dark out; the sun slowly bleeding away into the early December night. 

Stiles was in his kitchen, cutting and preparing vegetables to go with the chicken already in the oven. His dad was coming home early tonight, not being needed to stay at the station late, and Stiles was excitedly making his favorite meal. 

He hummed along to the music coming from his phone, him and his father hadn’t had a proper dinner together in what felt like months. Stiles danced over to his phone to turn up the music, stopping when he saw the texts from his father received over twenty minutes ago.

I have to stay late again tonight bud. I’m sorry Stiles, I know how much you were looking forward to this. I’ll make it up to you, ok? Please be safe. I love you. 

Stiles let out a breath and shook his head. Of course, his father would have to stay late. He’s the damn sheriff, he has to be at the station. He was walking back to the kitchen counter when a loud bang startled him out of his thoughts. 

It sounded like it had come from the front of his house, and as he slowly walked out of the kitchen, more pounding followed. It was coming from the front door, and it was obvious whoever it was, they were extremely impatient. 

He was immediately on edge. It wasn’t unusual for Scott to stop by after school, but he had a spare key to the Stilinski residence and often let himself in. 

The knocking stopped suddenly, and Stiles heard a loud groan coming from the other side, “Look Stilinski, I know you’re in there, your stupid jeep is parked outside. Open the fucking door man!”

Stiles sighed and closed the distance between him and the door. The night just keeps getting better, first his dad bails on him and now this. 

He rolled his eyes as he opened the stained wood, “What do you want Jackson?”

The person in question pushed Stiles aside as he stepped in. “I left my leather jacket here last time the pack met jackass,” He walked over to the living room, “Where is it?”

“It’s upstairs,” Stiles started walking up the brown carpeted stairs, Jackson staring dumbly at his retreating back, “are you coming or not? Gods, I didn’t realize I was your butler.”

“You wish you got paid that well Stilinski,” Jackson snarked, taking the stairs two at the time to easily catch up.

They walked the rest of the way to Stiles’ room in relative silence, the only noise was Jackson’s displeased grunt as he was ushered into the small blue room. Stiles started rummaging through his closet as Jackson took in the mess around him.

He walked up to his desk littered with empty wrappers and water bottles. It was disgusting. 

Jackson tried not to gag, “You know for the amount of time you spend on your computer you’d think you would take better care of your desk. It’s a pig sty.”

Stiles grunted from the closet, not pleasuring Jackson with a smartass remark. The blonde was increasingly getting bored, his eyes starting to drift around the giant cork board behind Stiles’ desk. It was mainly filled with pictures of the pack, but there was one near the bottom corner that Jackson finally landed on.

You wouldn’t notice it if you weren’t really looking, and Jackson wondered if Stiles was hiding it. 

He picked it up, looking closer. It was a picture of Stiles and six other kids he’s never seen before. Stiles was standing in the middle, with the biggest grin on his face. They all wore the same orange tee shirt.

They all had the same eyes.

He flipped the photo over for information, but all it had scrawled on the back was the word “REMEMBER.” Jackson was taken aback- who were these people, and what the hell was ‘remember’ supposed to mean? It sounded ominous, and vaguely threatening.

He turned to Stiles’ closet, still holding the photograph in his hand, “Hey, who are-”

“Aha! I knew it was in here! Here’s your dumb jacket.” Stiles laughed in victory as he crawled out of his small closet.

He stood up, holding the wrinkled leather lump out to Jackson, who forgot all about the picture, “What the hell dude! You’re so paying for the dry cleaning bill.”

Stiles rolled his eyes and threw the jacket on his bed, “Oh please, it’s not that bad.”

Jackson huffed, curling his fingers into fists and quickly remembering the picture still tucked in his right hand.

He held it out to Stiles, “Who are these people? I’ve never seen them-”

“Whoa, what are you doing looking through my stuff?” Stiles tried to grab the photo, but Jackson was too fast, “Who they are doesn’t matter.”

Jackson crossed his arms, “Oh, so does Scott know about them? How about Derek or any of the others? You know how dangerous it is to have secrets like this. Do they even know about the supernatural?”

Stiles looked at the ceiling, “Gods, I knew it was a bad idea for them to tell you about everything! But does anyone ever listen to me? No! Like I said they’re no one, ok? Just-”

“If they’re no one than why do you look so chummy with them, huh? What does CHB stand for?” Jackson turned the photo over, “What the hell does ‘remember’ mean?”

Stiles’ reeled back, his eyes glazing over and his face dropping. Jackson thought he looked sad. 

He stepped closer to Stiles, hardening his voice, “So let me ask you again, who-”

“They’re dead… or, I guess only three of them are, but I haven’t talked to the rest since-” Stiles’ voice got softer, and he looked at the ground, “Look, it doesn’t matter anymore ok? Please just let it go.”

Jackson nodded, walking back over the board to pin it up in the center. 

He stared at it for a second before facing Stiles, “So is your whole house as messy as your room is? Because I’ve got to tell you, you would make an awful butler.”

Stiles smiled, “Please Jackson, if it were left to you, your house would look like a tornado blew through it! You’re absolutely-”

He cut off suddenly, spinning around to face his door. 

Jackson took a step closer, “Stilinski? What-”

Stiles raised his hand to stop Jackson, whispering as he crept closer to the door, “There’s someone in the house.”

“What? I don’t hear-”

There was a large crash in the kitchen, followed by a rancid smell.

Jackson covered his nose, “What the hell is that!?”

There was a voice drifting up the stairs. It sounded like a woman’s, “Half-blood….I smell you. You can’t hide from me forever Mieczyslaw.”

Stiles’ eyes widened, “Shit- shit! How did she find me- damn it Jackson!”

Jackson furrowed his eyebrows, jabbing a finger at Stiles, “Hey Stilinski, this isn’t on me! I don’t know what kind of freaks you hook up with in your spare time!”

He lowered his voice to a whisper, “Does Derek know?-“

“Jackson!” Stiles snapped his mouth shut, glaring at the other boy for making him yell. 

The smell was getting stronger, the voice of the woman louder. Jackson was really close to shitting his pants. He wasn’t made for this kind of stuff! 

He wasn’t even supposed to be here, in the middle of whatever fuckshow Stiles had gotten himself involved in. He just wanted to come, get his jacket, and leave.

Jackson started to walk towards the window, “Well I think it’s time I go Stilinski, I don’t want to get in the middle of this little lover’s spat-”

“Gods, will you just shut up for one minute!” Stiles ran back over to his closet, digging through the pile of dirty laundry. “My window is broken. It doesn’t open, so have fun with that.” 

Jackson felt like he was going to cry, the hope of escaping rapidly fading as he peered into the closet filled with filthy clothes.

He looked over at his jacket, still lying on the bed, “Is that seriously where my jacket was? I swear if-”

Stiles looked over his shoulder, “Are you kidding me right now? There is someone in the house trying to kill me, don’t think that she won’t tear through you too! And you’re worried about your jacket! I promise Jackson, if-”

“Yeah well a pile of dirty laundry isn’t going to do much, now is it, dumbass!” Jackson walked over to Stiles’ dresser and started to push it towards the door, “I’m going to move this in front of your door, and then I’m leaving through the window, whether it’s broken or not, good fucking luck with-”

“No, wait! Don’t block the door I think I’ve got it-” Stiles popped out of his closet again, this time holding a bat. He pointed it at Jackson, “Stay behind me and maybe you won’t die.”

Jackson’s eyes widened.

“Are you kidding me Stiles! A bat? Your dad is the sheriff, you’d think you’d have a fucking gun lying around!” Jackson started panicking again as he took in Stiles’ lanky appearance, but his determined face and steel baseball bat.

He decided that he liked his chance with the window a lot more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be a continuation of this, and will focus around what happened to Stiles and his mystery injury mentioned in chapter one. 
> 
> I hope you liked it :) my tumblr is @floralrat if you need to message me about anything.


	3. The Injury: December 3, 2009

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jackson has to think of a plan if he want to make it out alive.

Jackson didn’t know what to do. He was freaking out, unsure what would happen to him once the woman came into the room. According to Stiles, she would rip right through him to get to her target. Which brings him to the other problem- who was she, and what the hell did Stiles do to her?

He closed his eyes and counted to ten, telling himself that that when he opened his eyes he would be waking up in his bed, not still standing in the middle of Stiles’ room, cowering behind him.

Jackson opened his eyes. He was still standing in Stiles’ room.

He backed up, tripping over himself into a sitting position on the bed next to his leather jacket. This was so insane. There was a literal mad woman in Stilinski’s house, probably with a gun, and all he had was a goddamn baseball bat. 

He started hyperventilating. He was too young to die. Too handsome. 

Stiles looked over his shoulder, worry etched into his face, “Hey, don’t freak out okay? I was serious when I said just stand behind me. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Jackson sucked in a breathe, he could hear the woman getting closer, “Why- why do you think she’s here to kill you?”

“Oh, uh-“ Stile coughed, clearing his throat and turning back around to face the door, “I might have killed her sister last year.”

“You what!?” Jackson’s eyes widened, “Did you kill her sister or not Stilinski, it’s really not that difficult.”

Stiles shot a cheeky smile over her shoulder, “I killed her sister.”

Jackson fell down on the bed, this was even worse than he thought. Stiles had killed someone, and the sister of that someone was downstairs and wanted revenge. 

The blonde swore that if he ever made it out alive he is so telling Derek. 

He sat back up, running his hands down his face, “What the actual hell Stilinski. I can’t believe-“

Stiles ran up to the door and opened it a crack, “She’s here.”

Jackson shot up, suddenly on high alert. He held his breath, slowly walking around the bed and hiding on the far side of it. 

Just because Stilinski had a death wish didn’t mean that he does.

Stiles backed up as the door slowly moved open. The smell of what Jackson finally recognized as sulfur got almost unbearable. He wondered how Stiles wasn’t dying by now. 

The woman slowly walked into Stiles’ room. No, it couldn’t really be called a woman- it looked more like a monster out of a fairytale more than flesh and blood. Whatever it was, it was large, and ugly, and had a huge tail instead of legs. 

Jackson thought he was going to pass out. 

Sure, he knew werewolves were real, but that had taken him long enough to accept. Now, there was a giant snake lady approaching, and according to Stiles there was definitely more than one. 

Jackson ducked behind the bed as the two stared down. Maybe if he stayed really quiet then she wouldn’t notice him. 

The woman laughed, “I see you have a friend, Mieczyslaw. Pity he’s cowering behind you.” 

Jackson cursed internally, grabbing the lamp on the nightstand beside him before standing up fully. The snake monster smiled as she took him in, and Jackson felt his heart drop.

He was really going to die today.

His eyes focused on Stiles, who was holding the bat over his head. He swiftly brought it down, and as soon as the top of the bat hit the ground, it started to ripple. It all happened so quickly, Jackson wasn’t sure if it was actually real. 

Stiles’ bat had turned into a giant fucking sword. 

Not only did it look over three feet in length, but it was as wide as one of Jackson’s thighs. It must have weighed at least 50 pounds. He wondered how Stiles’ legs didn’t buckle underneath him as he swung it at the creature, which soon became a full blown fight. 

Stiles and the creature danced around each other. Him, striking her ever so often, but not nearly deep enough to where it would matter. Her, dodging him and throwing punches, but not nearly as hard as Jackson knew she could. 

She was waiting for the right moment. 

Jackson crouched behind the bed again, trying to figure out what her plan was. Stiles could obviously hold his own, at least for now, and Jackson had to find out a way to actually help. 

He tightened his grip on the lamp, if he was going to die, might as well die with some sort of pride left. Jackson leapt up and lunged away from his hiding spot behind the bed, but it was already too late. 

Stiles had jumped up on the bedside table and launched himself off it, driving his sword straight through the snake’s skull. 

The ground underneath the woman fractured, a small fissure quickly growing to let her fall, a frozen scream etched onto her face. The floor formed back together, almost as though it had never happened, and Stiles threw his sword on the ground.

Jackson doesn’t think he’s ever seen someone so badass. 

He ran around the bed, standing behind Stiles, “Yo Stilinski that was-“

He smile faded as Stiles turned around, holding his right side. 

Jackson walked closer, fear spreading as he made eye contact with Stiles confused face, “Stilinski, what’s wrong….”

The boy in question removed his hand from his side, looking down at it before making eye contact with Jackson. 

It was soaked in blood.

Jackson hadn’t even see the dagger. 

Stiles was increasingly getting paler, a sickly gray tone flushing across his skin. Jackson managed to catch him as he fell to the floor, already passed out.


	4. The Recovery: December 3 / 4, 2009

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles' recovery and how Jackson helps. The pack is supportive and they're there for Stiles, but have no idea what is truly happening.

Jackson balked as Stiles slumped in his arms. 

He had no idea what to do. He wasn’t a trained nurse like Mrs McCall, or a pain-sucking werewolf like Derek or Scott. He was just Jackson. 

He layed Stiles down on his back as he checked the latter‘s head. He was burning up. 

Jackson felt along his chest, stopping when Stiles recoiled in pain. He slowly pushed back the flannel, and lifted up the black graphic tee. It was even worse than he thought. There was a hole in Stiles’ side, and purple veins of toxicity running from it.

Jackson thought he was going to be sick. 

He moved his line of vision upwards, stopping when he got to Stiles’ chest, where the shirt had rode up. He had scars littering his body. It was ridiculous really, how many there were. Some small and thin, others extremely wide or rounded. 

He couldn’t help but wonder where he got them from, because according to Erica, Stiles never actually fought anything. He wondered where he learned how to fight like how he did as well. 

Jackson applied pressure to the wound, not sure exactly where the dagger had gone. It was dangerous to remove a knife from its wound, he knew that much. 

He racked his brain, trying to figure out what to do. Melissa wasn’t on call at the hospital, and the loft was way too far away. Stiles would never make it. He could always go to Scott’s house, but there’s no promise that they’re even home, and if they are what does he tell them? 

He didn’t even know how explain this to himself. 

He had a sharp intake of breath as he remembered something Lydia had told him. The local vet, Deaton, was their emissary. Jackson wasn’t really sure what that meant, but he did know that Deaton knew about the supernatural and helped heal those in the pack. Maybe he could help Stiles. 

Jackson scooped Stiles up in his arms and quickly made his way to his car. 

He thought he smelled something burning as he rushed out the door. 

He gently laid the boy in the back seat, being careful not to touch his injury. Jackson hurried around to the driver’s seat and put his car in reverse, quickly backing out of the Stilinski’s driveway. He looked in the rear view mirror, swallowing at the pale mass, unmoving. He pulled onto the main road, desperately hoping he remembered the way to the Veterinarian’s. 

It was an already short ride, made shorter by Jackson’s frantic driving. He was lucky he didn’t get pulled over. He braked, and Stiles went flopping onto the floor.

Jackson unbuckled his seatbelt, “Shit- shit! Please don’t be dead please-“

“What the hell?” Stiles looked up, clearly out of it as his eyes glazed over and he slumped back down on the ground. 

Jackson sighed in relief as he opened up his door and ran over to carry Stiles out of the car. It was already well past eight, and he wasn’t even sure if Deaton was still working. Jackson walked up to the door, only having to knock once before it was swung open. 

The Veterinarian took one look at the two of them, Jackson scared and panting, Stiles unconscious and cradled in his arms. He ushered Jackson in. 

Deaton quickly walked to the back, asking Jackson to fill him in on what happened, which he gladly did. The older man took in a sharp breath and hesitated before moving forward again when Jackson told him about how the dagger had disappeared. 

He turned on some lights in an unused room, “Are you sure you didn’t see it?”

Jackson shook his head no as he laid Stiles down on the cold metal table.

“This isn’t good. It could have been anything.” Deaton sighed as he lifted up Stiles’ shirt, “It looks like poison but you never know with-“

“With what? What is Stiles? How can he fight like that?” Jackson loomed over the doctor. 

Deaton shook his head, “I don’t know Mr. Whittemore, perhaps you should ask Mr. Stilinski yourself.” 

“How can I even trust you? Someone already tried to kill him once today, prove to me you’re not doing the same.” The blonde teen crosses his arms, narrowing his eyebrows at the man next to him.

The wheels in Jackson’s head were turning. He knew Deaton could be trusted- that’s why he took Stiles there in the first place. But he wanted to know what the other man knew, because it’s obvious he knows something, and when Jackson wants something he always gets it. 

Deaton was taken aback, “I assure you Mr. Whittemore, in situations concerning Stiles I am the first person you should be coming to.”

Jackson turned smug, “So you do know something.”

“No, I assure you I do not.” The doctor turned back to Stiles, pressing around his wound, “And I think it’s best if you just drop it Mr. Whittemore.”

Jackson opened up his mouth to argue back, but a loud groan from Stiles cut him off. His interrogation could come later. 

He helped Deaton tend to Stiles for almost three hours, during which he become semi-conscious multiple times. Most of the time he spoke a strange language Jackson couldn’t place, but he also called out for a person named Lee. Deaton tensed every time it was said, and Jackson quickly put two and two together. 

“Whoever this Lee person is- he has something to do with this.” Jackson motioned to Stiles, “Doesn’t he.” 

Deaton closed his eyes for a beat and nodded, “I guess I should really tell you then, shouldn’t I.”

After that, Deaton explained as much as he could without getting too in depth. Stiles was a demigod, son of Apollo and Noah Stilinski. The woman Stiles fought was a Dracaena, and he had indeed killed her sister in a battle the previous year or so. Which is also where Stiles had gotten all of his scars from. He’s been in more battles than Deaton could remember. 

He also had siblings. A whole summer camp cabin full of them. Jackson remembered the picture hanging in his room and brought it up to Deaton, who looked down in sorrow. 

There had been a war going on for almost three years, and during his freshman year instead of going off to fight, Stiles had hid away in Beacon Hills. Several of his siblings died over the course of months, and Stiles has never forgiven himself. He felt it was his fault he wasn’t there to protect them. Jackson found out the Lee, the eldest brother and the closest to Stiles, had died during the war. They never found his body. 

It was almost eleven when Deaton told Jackson to call the others in the pack and tell them to come. It didn’t look hopeful. 

Jackson nodded and sat in the lobby, first calling Derek and then Scott, leaving out the details of what actually happened and anything Deaton had told him. From there, the two of them started calling the others, relaying the same message: Stiles’ home had been broken into and he got stabbed. Deaton wasn’t sure what was wrong yet, but was doing everything in his power to heal the boy. 

They had to get there as soon as they could. 

The pack filtered in slowly. Scott, followed by Lydia, Allison, and then Derek and his betas. Jackson lost count of how many times he was asked what had happened and he just shrugged and looked at his feet. No way was he going to betray Deaton’s trust- Stiles’ trust, just after getting the full story. Over his dead body. 

Derek decided that it would be best to not tell Noah what had happened, at least not before they fully knew themselves. Scott, of course was furious at this. Stiles’ father had a right to know if his only child was dying. He started to argue with the brooding alpha, but was quickly stopped when Lydia explained to him the consequences of what exposing the supernatural could do. 

Jackson wanted to tell the sheriff what had happened, because it was obvious he knew about Stiles, but he couldn’t explain that to the rest of the pack without spilling secrets that weren’t his. So instead, Scott pulled out his phone and hesitatantly texted Noah that Stiles was staying over his house. 

Jackson felt sick. 

It was a long and painful next couple of hours for everyone. Scott and Jackson had skipped school the next day in favor of staying in the Veterinarian office. Derek stayed as well, while the rest of the pack had to go to school. Deaton wouldn’t let any of them go in the back to see Stiles. 

It was after school had ended, and Lydia was sitting next Jackson when it happened. Her eyes widened and she gripped his arm so hard he started to bleed. He was going to ask if she was okay, but she was suddenly screaming. Jackson’s stomach rolled over. 

Suddenly Deaton was in front of Jackson, pulling him up and into the room where Stiles was. He locked the door hurriedly behind him, demanding Jackson to start performing CPR while he finished mixing the cure. 

“I figured out what was wrong with him but he just flatlined. It wasn’t the poison on the blade- it was the blade itself.” He sounded rushed, and extremely nervous.

Deaton staring mixing powders in a large bowl as Jackson straddled the brunette and started compressions. It was only 25 seconds at the most that Stiles was gone for, but it was still absolutely terrifying nonetheless. 

After Jackson brought Stiles back to life, everything started happening fairly quickly. 

Jackson went back into the lobby with the others, Scott giving him a dirty look, but too busy comforting Lydia to say anything. Deaton gave Stiles the cure he made, and after about 20 minutes it had circulated around the teen’s bloodstream and he had woken up. 

The pack rushed into the tiny room as soon as Deaton came out and told them. Stiles had put Jackson's blood stained lacrosse hoodie on, his shirt laying next to him, ripped to shreds from the fight and Deaton cutting it to look closer at the wound. He was smiling as though nothing had happened, but shared a knowing and grateful look with Jackson over the backs of the others. 

Jackson smiled back, and slipped out the back of the clinic. He climbed into his car and drove home. He could finally breathe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I kind of really love the idea of a Jackson/Stiles friendship, which really isn't where I had originally planned for this to go at all. In fact, I wasn't even going to have Jackson as a character in this, but somehow it ended up happening anyways.


	5. Jackson and Stiles: December 10, 2009

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jackson checks up on Stiles. Takes place directly after chapter one.

As Jackson watched Alison and Derek leave he allowed himself to panic.

In the days following the incident, him and Stiles had become oddly close. Granted, it wasn't really Stiles’ choice- the other boy had visited his house one night demanding answers. Regardless, Stiles knew Jackson wasn’t stupid enough to tell anyone else. He was just curious. Stiles could respect that. If he had his own selfish reasons to talk to Jackson about his life no one needed to know. 

Jackson jumped out of his seat and hurried to the door, catching it before it swung shut. He threw a half-assed excuse over his shoulder and then he was gone, rushing to his car and speeding down a shortcut Stiles had told him about.

He arrived in ten minutes. The way he took didn’t help that much, only shaving about seven minutes off of how long it would normally take. But, Jackson didn’t see the Camaro, and he wouldn’t be surprised if Derek got pulled over for running a stop sign or driving above the speed limit.

He parked next to Stiles’ jeep and got out, jogging to the front door and knocking before it was thrown open, “What are doing here Jackson? I already told you guys I-”

“Yeah I know, that’s why I’m here. Derek and Alison are already on their way. I tried to stop them but you know how Derek gets,” he rolled his eyes, “So are you going to let me in or not?”

Stiles paused before opening the door wider in invitation, looking out across his street for the two in question. When he was sure no one else was nearby he closed the door, quickly making his way up to his room where Jackson was already waiting for him. The blonde was sitting on the bed, arms stretched out behind him with a small frown on his face. Stiles let out a huff. It really was quite strange how well the two of them got along.

Jackson pointed to a medium-sized bronze bowl resting in the middle of the bedroom floor with water in it, “What’s that for?”

“You said that Derek and Alison were on their way?” Jackson nodded and the other boy pursed his lips in response, kneeling in front of the bowl, “Then we don’t have much time. Remember how my father is Apollo? Well, sometimes his children have the gift of foresight. It’s hard to explain, but recently I’ve been getting dreams and I think it means something.”

“Okay that’s really cool and all, but what about the bowl?” Jackson moved to cross his arms, leaning forward in interest.

Stiles reaches over to his bed and pulls out a knife from underneath it. It’s short, but thin and the hilt is decorated with what looks like bronze horses. He takes off his jacket, and presses the blade to his bicep, “Everyone has different ways to make sense of what they see in visions, this unfortunately, is mine.”

Jackson jumps off the bed, “Woah what the hell Stilinski? You’re actually trying to tell me that you tell the future through your blood? What is this?”

The boy in question stills, “Well, it’s not exactly seeing the future, but helping interpret what I see in my visions.”

Jackson nods and scratches his chin, “That’s… actually really cool. So do you remember what you’ve been seeing?”

“Yeah, but only bits and pieces since I haven’t been able to get enough time to decipher it,” He sighs heavily, “Ever since I died at Deaton’s I’ve been seeing a boy in my dreams. I think- I think it’s my brother Will, but I can’t be sure. At first I didn’t think much of it, I dream about my siblings a lot, but… after finding out that I died a couple of days ago I fear it may be much worse.”

Stiles hesitates, putting the knife back on the ground and standing up to face and put his hands on the other’s shoulders, “It can’t happen again, okay? But if it does and you’re there don’t worry about performing CPR. Make sure no one else knows what happened. Trust me, the least people who know the least we’ll have to explain to as to why I came back from the dead. But the most important thing is you have to time how long I’m gone for. Everytime it happens, it-”

He cut himself off with a short intake of breath, eyes rolling to the back of his head before he started to crumple. Jackson managed to catch him under the armpits, lowering Stiles down just as he started to convulse. He grabbed the jacket thrown to the side of the bed, shoving it under Stiles’ head so he wouldn’t hurt himself. 

He wasn’t an idiot, he knew how to handle someone who was having a seizure. But learning about it in freshman health class, and having to help someone in real life were two completely different things.

Jackson froze, hovering his hands above Stiles’ abdomen in a vain attempt at god knows what. He didn’t even know Stiles was prone to seizures. Did normal people just start seizing out of nowhere, or was this part of the demigod gig? 

He sighed, silently thanking whatever gods were watching when Stiles stopped shaking. He placed his hands down on the boy, but as soon as they touched flesh Jackson knew something was wrong. He widened his eyes, frantically looking for a pulse. He didn’t find one.

Jackson’s breath picked up, and he began to climb atop Stiles before remembering what he had said moments before he collapsed. Don’t bother with CPR. Just time how long he’s gone for. Jackson scrambled for his phone, thrown in the middle of the bed. He opened the timer, and started it. He waited, worrying his lip and a hole in the blue carpet until Stiles sat up, coughing and wheezing.

Jackson checked his phone. He was gone for over a minute.

He rushed over, helping Stiles into a sitting position. He was rewarded with a confused look, and snorted in response, “Dude you just went again.”

“What? How long was I gone for?” Stiles’ eyes widened, and Jackson thought he looked frightened.

“A minute fifteen. You had a seizure before that-”

“Shit-” Stiles whipped his head to face the window, “Shit is Derek here?”

Jackson ran to the other side of the room, pulling the curtain back before nodding, “Yeah, but he’s just turning off his car now and it looks like him and Alison are arguing pretty badly.”

Stiles groaned, closing his eyes for a beat before sliding the bowl and knife back underneath his bed, water sloshing out and onto the floor, “This will have to wait then- dammit!”

Jackson strode over, standing face to face with the son of Apollo, “Look I’m not an idiot, okay? Whatever that just was, it triggers the...visions or whatever, right? And I’m guessing that everytime you don’t do something about finding out what the hell they mean they get worse. And I also take it that you know that once your heart stops beating you only have five minutes until you’re completely gone..”

Stiles sighed and nodded, walking over to his small window. Now it was his turn to look out at the two people bickering in the car just past his yard, unaware of what had just taken place in the house across the street.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An update!! Hope ya'll like it- if ya'll want a chapter of Alison and Derek on their way to Stiles' house let me know...I feel like it would be a nice comedic break.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed it! I’m really loving writing so far- it’s so much fun.


End file.
